


I would not mind if you stayed

by Alayne_StoneColdFox



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Asoiaf - Fandom, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Marriage, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alayne_StoneColdFox/pseuds/Alayne_StoneColdFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Petyr/Sansa marriage AU.</p><p>Sansa acquaints herself with her new husbands business, arriving un-announced on the doorstep of his brothel. It is no place for a highborn lady, but how can he turn her away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was dusk at Kings Landing, the sun only just having set as merchants on the streets slowly started to pack away their wares, but the taverns began to fill and candles were lit in windows. 

Sansa pulled her cloaks hood up as she made her way through these bustling streets, trying to keep a pace that didn't raise suspicion, but hurrying nonetheless. Her eyes darted all around her, at the people, at the buildings. The smells hit her too. Bad smells, good smells, spices from huge ceramic pots outside traders tents, fruits being carried in baskets past her, waste being dumped in the streets from second storey windows, stray cats winding their way down narrow alleys. She'd been in this city for so long, but she felt like she only truly knew the inside of her own room in the red keep and the same paths of the castle gardens. 

She kept herself close to Shae, who led the way through the back streets. Sansa prayed she knew where she was going, she'd assured her the directions she'd gotten from a kitchen hand were easy enough to follow, but Sansa couldn't imagine how someone could navigate this city without living here all their life, the roads were that winding and knitted together. She must be glad for the narrow walkways and shadowed streets though, they had not past a single member of the city watch yet.

For a second Sansa let her fear grip her, but she tried to shake it away just as fast. No....no, she was not a slave to the Lannisters any longer. She stopped being a hostage as soon as she was wed. She was Lady Baelish now, and by law she belonged to her Lord husband. Neither Cersei, nor Joffrey, could dictate her life anymore.

Or at least that was the theory of it. She could not forget that her husband was a Lannister man. If Joffrey found her gone from the castle and ordered the gold cloaks to drag her back, would he even try to oppose them? 

Sansa shuddered at the thought of Joffrey finding her empty chambers. She didn't know when he would go looking for her, he hadn't said, or if he even would at all. 'Perhaps' is the word he had used. She could still hear the gleeful malice in his voice as he'd gripped her arm too tightly. 'Perhaps I shall pay you a visit tonight, since I hear your husband will be out. I wonder, has he taught you any tricks yet? Whores tricks? ….no? Well, I guess I'll find out, won't I?'

It was naive of her to think the days of being shamed by the man she must call king were over, but she'd be damned if she let him have her now. This was the thought that had steeled her nerves as she'd spirited herself out of the castle, a sense of rebellion pounding in her chest as she chanted in her head 'I have every right to leave...I have every right...every right'. She chanted it fiercely, for it's what she would say to anyone who tried to send her back to the bed Joffrey wanted her waiting in.

“It should be up ahead, I think that's it” Shae said, and Sansa looked up.

It was larger than she imagined, though she had to admit she hadn't given much thought to what the outside of the place would look like. She didn't expect a brothel to have a balcony though.

Shae still walked ahead as they made their way to the door, past bawdy groups of men, and girls standing by, beckoning them in with low cut bodices and light hearted laughter. Sansa found herself faltering as she watched a man grab a women's ass roughly with both hands, and she laughed and pressed herself further against him, right there against the wall besides her. She turned away when she felt Shae grab her by the hand and pull her along.

There was a man in the entranceway, tucked away so that she almost didn't notice him, but as they made their way inside he blocked their path.

“Good evening ladies...” he said, tone not unkind, as he regarded them almost curiously “May I ask what has brought you here this evening?”

He was big and cast a large shadow in the dimming light. Sansa did not have to think of what to say, as Shae had already drawn herself up to the man, unflinching “This is Littlefingers brothel is it not?” 

“Aye?” 

“Then would you be kind enough to escort us to him, please?”

Her words were courteous but she delivered them sharply and without patience, as was Shae's usual way.

The man laughed “Lord Baelish doesn't just see girls off the street, he has enough workers as is. Come on. Off with you” he said, as a couple of men all but pushed their way past Sansa and Shae, wandering in easily with a nod to this blockade of a man.

“We don't want to work here, we are not whores looking for a job!” Shae said angrily as they were herded out.

“Please-” Sansa tried “You misunderstand, I'm here to see my husband! You must let me in to see him!” she said as she was led roughly by the arm.

“It is not my problem that your husband fucks whores, take that up with him after he leaves for the night”

“What? No, no my husband is-Ow, let go! Stop!”

“You get your hands off her!” Shae cried as they were both shoved out unceremoniously onto the street.

Sansa stumbled so badly she almost fell over, causing a few close by to jeer, and her face burned red. She pulled her cloak tighter around her, her mouth set in a thin line as she tried to sound as dignified as she could.

“I am Lady Sansa Baelish, and it would be in your best interest to allow me in to my Lord husbands establishment right now!” 

There was a silence as she and the man locked eyes, and she could see his smug look falter.

“Well?” Shae pressed “Are you going to stand aside, or will Lady Sansa have to tell her husband about this tomorrow? I'm sure Lord Baelish would love to hear all about how hard you pushed her. I wonder if you left bruises?”

He did not look happy to let them in, but let them in he did.

Sansa and Shae were led through a gauze curtain, and the smell of incense and the sound of a harp reached them, the clatter from the streets fading as they ventured further inside.

Sansa took everything in. The tiled floors, the red lanterns, the nearly naked women and the men who had them in their laps. She was embarrassed to look, but there was not a way she could turn to avoid seeing them. A woman walked past her, completely nude but not for the golden chain that hung low on her hips, little medallions jingling as she stepped. There was a dark women, skin as black as ebony, who wore a brilliantly patterned cloak of silk that hung open at the front to bare all.

She caught Sansa's eye as she glanced up, and Sansa just as quickly glanced down. As they trailed through the low lit rooms she couldn't help but feel watched by more than a few eyes.

They reached what must have been Lord Baelish's office. 

Petyr, Sansa reminded herself. It was weeks into their marriage and yet she was still un-accostumed to referring to him by his first name.

They were man and wife by name and law, but there was still a closeness they did not share. This lack made her chest tighten with worry as their guide wrapped his knuckles on the door. What if this was a burden on him, her coming here? Would he be irritated? Would he send her back? She must hope not.

There was a sound of a latch being released, and the heavy door swung open a crack. Petyr Baelish looked out and he did not look happy. A wealthily dressed man sat inside behind him, staring in curiosity at the interruption.

“If this is a matter that can wait..?” Petyr said pointedly, tone low and in check in light of his guest, but his look was fierce.

Sansa couldn't help but notice how this big, burly man, who stood a good foot taller than her husband, suddenly looked so meek, his voice faltering.

“I'm sorry, M'lord, but....well, your wife is here..” he trailed off, and at that Petyr swung the door open fully, and spotted Sansa standing sheepishly off to the side, Shae behind her.

His mouth gaped in a moments surprise, before he affixed a smile on his face “My Lady....” he said, clearly choosing his words carefully “Why, what an unexpected visit”

Sansa wasn't sure how much annoyance he might've been masking with his comment, so she dipped her head “I'm sorry if I'm interrupting, Husband. If I could simply have a moment of your time...if it suits you” she said formally.

Petyr regarded her for a moment, his expression un-readable “Of course, you know how much I cherish our moments together”

Sansa blushed pink. This was surely sarcasm, as she knew herself to be less than dutiful in her role as a wife. She could count the times she had actively attempted to spend time with him on one hand, and yet here she was, calling on him at an unreasonable hour in an unreasonable place, simply to suit her own self. Sansa was sure this was not lost on him. At least she had the decency to feel a slight pang of shame.

“-but if you would forgive me if I spend a moment longer with my friend here” he gestured inside to the man sat watching them, waiting “He's a particularly revered man, and we still have some business to discuss”

“Of course” Sansa said quickly “I did not mean to interrupt. I will wait for you at your leisure” she said, courtesy dictating her words.

Petyr nodded “Markas, show my Lady through to the gold room. See that she has everything she needs”

“Yes, M'lord”

Sansa breathed an uneasy sigh as soon as the door shut on them again, and her and Shae were once more led by the man she now knew was named Markas. 

The gold room was named for it's tapestries that hung on the walls, and the matching silk of the bed linens and hangings, all gold, the hue of the room standing out against the predominantly red colour scheme of the rest of the building. The tapestries looked from a foreign country, as they were like nothing Sansa had seen in Kings landing before. The thread spun so it shone, with intricately embroidered cranes and flowers done in a hundred small stitches or blue and teal green and soft pink.

The bed was large, wide enough to fit six grown people either side, perhaps more. Hanging curtains dropped down from the higher than usual ceilings to surround it, mixed gauze and silk, and there were pillows upon pillows in all sorts of jewel colours littering the bed.

While Sansa took it all in, Shae strode over to pull back the sheets, inspecting them.

“This bed is un-used?” she asked bluntly.

Markas nodded “Ay. Reserved for only the specialist of guests, M'lady. It has not been touched in days, I promise you” he nodded at Sansa.

Sansa tried not to linger on the thought of what went on in a bed like this, even after the sheets may have been washed “Thank you, it's a lovely room”

“Are you in need of anything else?”

She was about to politely decline, before she thought on it for a second “Some wine would be nice”

There was no clock in this golden room, so Sansa could not know how much time passed, but it seemed agonisingly slow.

She had changed into her night shift, as she had come prepared for a night spent away, and Sansa sat with her feet up on the covers of the bed, a glass of wine in hand, even if she did not think much of the taste of the one Markas had brought to her.

“Do you think Joffrey would be looking for me right about now?” she asked, tracing patterns in the sheets.

“Maybe” Shae replied “But what can he do while you are here?”

“....get angry” she said after some time “I can't avoid him forever”

Shae looked at her sadly “You can try” but the words sounded weak, as if she didn't really believe them herself.

Sansa was not as much of a fool as she once had been, and she knew hope alone would not stop Joffrey from having her if that's what he wished, and as he was King, Sansa was aware of how little she could do about it too.

But that was why she was here. As she had sat in her chambers earlier this day, wringing her hands, deciding what she should do, she made her choice.

Perhaps Joffrey would have her one day, but it would not be today, and he would not take her maidenhead, because a maiden she still was.

A secret known only between her and her husband, Sansa's maidenhead was till in tact. She had meant to do her duty, she swear she had, as she'd been lead from her wedding ceremony she had been determined to get it over with. To do her duty. She had told herself there was no point delaying the inevitable.

She had not meant to cry as her new husband touched her. 

As she was laid down on his bed and kissed with an unfamiliar mouth in the darkened room, the sob had simply escaped her. It was not just a sob at the loss of her innocence, or the fear of pain, it was about everything. How this was not the life she envisioned for herself. How she wished for home and her family. How little say she had in her life, how her choices were never her own.It had all just hit her and the tears fell of their own accord, and she found once she started she could not stop.....and her husband. Lord Baelish. He had pulled himself up above her, and even as she felt his hardness through his breeches, he had pulled back. There was little he said, but Sansa was thankful for that. He had simply let her cry.

After that night she had composed herself, as a lady should, and apologised. She had embarrassed herself, she knew, but Lord Baelish did not seem to take it to heart. He had told her he would wait for her to come to him, a move that had surprised her.

It had been weeks now and Sansa was sure he was regretting his words. She was taking advantage of his kindness by avoiding her duties as a wife, but in fairness she thought he should not have given her the choice. It was simply too easy to stay in separate beds, to stay a girl untouched and in denial, than to roll over and accept that she was now Lady Sansa Baelish, and this was the life they'd pressed upon her.

But as she had said, she could not run forever.

The door of the chamber creaked open, and Sansa looked up to see Petyr enter, their eyes locking immediately.

“My Lady?” he phrased it as a question as he stepped into the room.

Sansa put down her wine and sat up straight on the bed “My Lord” she said in stiff greeting.

He glanced at Shae and she took the hint, sliding off the bed and throwing one more glance over her shoulder before making her leave.

Sansa wanted him to speak first, but he left the silence too long she couldn't help but fill it, perhaps waiting for an explanation. She was not quite ready to give it “Again, I am sorry for intruding on your....affairs. I trust your business is done and that I did not hinder it at all?”

She could have sworn he almost laughed at that, the way his smile tugged at the corner of his mouth “Oh, yes, don't worry about that”

“I couldn't help but worry when I heard you say he was a revered man. I did not mean to embarrass you in front of-” and at this, Petyr actually did let out a laugh.

“Please, Darreth Bayle is many things, but revered is not one of them. I simply said that so the old man would overhear. Flattery is fast way to a dull minds money” he said languidly, choosing to sit himself on the edge of the plushly feathered mattress, where the size of the bed still left quite some distance between him and Sansa “He's a merchant, a rich one. Spices and what not, the best you can buy. He only arrived in Kings Landing yesterday, and he's looking to spend his coin here. Tells me he wants twenty girls to himself. Twenty, a ridiculous request, that's more than half the girls I have working in one night, and I doubt the old man could last through three”

Sansa nodded as he talked “You sent him away then?”

“Oh, no, no. I simply bartered a him down to a more reasonable number of ten, he will pay for them each in full and then some. An added tax, since I'm simply annoyed that there will be at least five girls with little to do, making money by sitting around while they wait their turn, with other customers ready to complain about the lack of girls out and available for themselves”

Sansa had never thought she would learn about the dynamic of running a brothel, but then again she'd never imagine even being in one either, and yet here she was.

“Now-” Petyr started slowly, as gazed at his little wife “Would you like to tell me what exactly it is that brought you here?” he said, an eyebrow raised “Believe me, this is no place for a Lady”

Sansa tried to think best on where to start.

“Joffrey” she said,unable to keep the mirth from her voice “He....he spoke to me today”

Petyr's smile left him “Did he?” he prompted.

“He would....he would disrespect the vows I have taken in the sept-” she started, not wanting to be crude, but he held up a hand to cut her off.

“I think I have an understanding of what you mean, sweetling. No need to go on”

Sansa was encouraged by the understanding in his voice “I didn't know where else to go, he'd get to me anywhere in the castle, and I knew you would be here and Shae asked a kitchen hand how to reach here and-”

“And you plan to live here from now on?”

“I...no. No, of course not, I just thought....for one night at least”

He clearly had the same thoughts as she did. She couldn't run from Joffrey forever.

Then Petyr sighed deeply “Of course you can stay here. I would not give you over to that monster, not with a willing hand”

Sansa felt jolted as she heard someone else refer to Joffrey as a monster. It was something very few dared utter out loud, and It pleased her to hear it.

“But Sweetling....you do understand that people will talk. A highborn lady visiting an establishment such as this...? There words will not be kind”

Sansa's gaze hardened “Let them talk as they wish. There words have never been that kind anyway”

He smiled at that, and rose from the bed “Well, let your stay be a comfortable one then. I hope the room is to your liking”

“Yes, it's beautiful” and she said it in earnest, running a hand over the silk of one of the pillows, playing with a golden tassel at its corner.

“Those are from Quarth” Petyr said “And the tapestries were brought here all the way from Yi Ti”

“The land across the Jade Sea?”

“The very same. I could find you some more, if you like them, to decorate your own chambers. They make them in all the colours you can imagine, just tell me what you'd prefer, and you'll have them”

A smile crept on Sansa's face at the offer “Tapestries or the pillows?”

“Either. Both. Whatever you wish for, my Lady”

She pondered, not wanting to sound greedy, but the idea of being spoiled took her. She had not had much of that from the Lannisters “Perhaps some pillows, just a few ...purples would be nice. Light shades, mauves”

Petyr came over to take her hand “Then purple pillows is what you will have, but why stop at just a few? You will have as many as your bed can fit, so many I'll lose you in them” 

Sansa found herself smiling as he kissed her hand.

“But I won't keep you up with talk of pillows, I'm sure you'd prefer some rest” he said, taking his leave as he wandered to the door “Sleep easy, Sweetling”

Sansa watched him retreat and she gripped the pillow more tightly. No, he could not leave.

“You aren't staying?” she called after him.

Petyr paused, and turned, eyebrows raised a fraction “I had not planned too?”

Sansa's nerves grew under his gaze as he studied her “Is it because you have more business to attend to ...or...” she trailed off as he stepped closer, back towards the bed.

“Or I would simply assume you wished to sleep alone, as you have done the past month?” he said slowly.

She cast her eyes down. She was so sure about what she wanted, she'd made this decision as she'd winded through the street to come here, her mind made up about what she would do. Sansa had few choices in life that were her own, but she could choose who took her maidenhead, and she would make sure it would not be Joffrey. 

“I....I would not mind if you stayed” she said, her eyes glancing up to meet Petyr's, and she found his eyes transfixed on her.

Surely he would know what she meant. She tried to convey it with her eyes, as she was not so sure on her words.

As he stepped around to the side of the bed, to stand over her where she sat, Sansa found his gaze was too much and dropped her head to look at the bed covers, but Petyr would not have that. He took a hand to tilt her jaw back up, to make her look him in the eyes again.

“You would have me spend the night with you, little wife?”

His voice was low and meaningful, and Sansa nodded resolutely, reaching up to thread her hand through his “Yes....husband”

He stroked her cheek, and she could feel the coldness of one of his rings glide over her skin, and then he leant his head down to kiss her.

Sansa rose up to her knees on the edge of the bed, allowing her to meet his lips better. It started chaste, as if he was waiting for her to pull back, expecting her too. Their lips only pressing together in light, testing kisses. Sansa found the nerve to let her hand wander to his chest, letting her hand run lightly over the front of his robe, and that was enough to spur him on. Petyr turned, his mouth slanted hungrily over hers, and Sansa felt his hand take her by the waist.

He didn't let it linger there, as he stroked down past her bottom and down the curve of her leg, to pick up the fabric of her night gown that pooled at her knees, so he could run his fingers back up her bare flesh. Teasingly light touches that made her gasp slightly, which he used as an opportunity to take her mouth with more need, his tongue pressing against her lips. Sansa could only think of how much wetter kisses were than she'd imagined, but she tentatively pushed back with her own tongue, finding a rhythm to work against him with. 

Then Petyr pulled back, only enough so that he could look upon her again. He thread a hand through her long red hair.

“Well...I would have offered to buy you Quartheen pillows a long time ago if I knew this is the kind of response I would get”

Sansa could tell it was a jape from the way he wore his smile, but she still gave him a light push nonetheless, which only seemed to amuse him more. She didn't want him to think she could be bought.

“It isn't like that” 

“Mm, then how is it, sweetling?” he said, moving his head to the crook of her neck, taking in the scent of her hair and pressing a small kiss to her neck.

'You are simply the lesser of two evils' she had a half mind to reply.

“You are my husband...” she said “This is....we're supposed too”

“Yes, but I was your husband three days ago, two weeks ago, a month ago, and you didn't come to me then, did you? What's changed? I'm curious” he pressed her with more kisses.

“Well...perhaps I am curious too” she said quietly.

“Curious?” Petyr echoed, his hand still rubbing below her gown, his hand beginning to creep up higher until he was massaging small circles at the flesh of her thigh “You've been thinking about this?”

Sansa nodded, and a rather smug look came to his face.

“And what exactly have you been thinking about, wont you tell me?”

She didn't know what to say, as she hadn't actually given it much thought at all, so she had no answer to give him. In truth Sansa had hoped this would all be a matter of lying back and letting him lead he way, for surely Petyr would know what he was doing, a man in his profession .He must just be playing with her at this point, as his hands crept higher and higher, and he pulled her tighter towards him. He must like seeing the blush that seared across her cheeks as she struggled for words.

The fact that the loss of her maidenhood seemed a game to him spurred Sansa on to make a bold move. She slid her hand down over the fabric of his robe until she felt the mound underneath, and she slowly and gently rubbed her palm across the length of him. She could feel him thick and hot through the fabric, and she hoped this answer of hers was enough for him. Petyr's sudden intake of breath and the slight shudder of his body told her it was.

He drew back from her a step and Sansa pulled back her hand as she watched him drop to he bed besides her. He took that same hand and moved to sit with his back against the pillows at the top of the bed, pulling Sansa gently to him.

“My little innocent wife” he murmured “Who would think you thought such wicked things..”

She slid across on her knees as he guided her to sit astride his lap, her thighs spread across him, wriggling her bottom ever so slightly to get comfortable. There was that same shudder from before, she thought. Sansa wetted her lips with her tongue, noticing how his eyes fixed on them as she did so, and wriggled slightly again, this time very much on purpose.

She could feel him, his hardness growing. He had been quite soft when she'd stroked across him with her hand, but now she could feel his cock pressing up beneath her. Petyr met her movements with his own, placing his hands as Sansa's small waist, helping form a small rhythm between them and their hips.

Sansa moved her hands to Petyr's chest, bracing herself against him as he leant back further into the pillows, and she rose up a little to rock her hips back and forth a little faster, as if she was riding him. The more she rode, and the more he grinded up against her, Sansa soon found a heat that started to spread through her lower half, and the realisation that this may be pleasurable yet. She stared to enjoy every time she felt the clear outline of Petyr's cock rub directly over her folds, even through the layers of fabric that still separated them. Little pants and gasps started to escape her lips as she worked herself over him, and as Sansa met his eyes, she saw Petyr's gaze was not as smug as it had been. Now his mouth hung open in a small gape, and his lids were heavy as he watched her and the rocking of her hips.

“Is this good?” she asked, tentatively “Do you like this?”

Petyr let out a low murmer “Yes....yes, you're doing very well. As well as I always thought you would ” he rasped.

Sansa couldn't help but give him a shy smile at the praise “So you have thought of me too? Like this, I mean?”

Petyr let out a sudden low laugh “The innocence you have sometimes, sweetling...to have a doubt in your head about how much I have thought of you in just such a position as this...” he said, trailing his hands down her thighs, clapping against them with a small smack, before gripping them more tightly “Yes....yes, I have thought of you more than it is wise to admit. About how you'd feel, how you'd smell...wether you had a flash of red between your legs, the same shade as your hair”

Sansa blushed “I do...” she answered, as demurely as a girl with a cock pressed beneath her bottom could.

“Oh, but if I could only see that sight” Petyr growled, his fingers twitching at the hem of her night gown “I say we make rid of this, don't you?”

Sansa breathed deeply as she bunched the material in her hands and pulled it up slowly over her head, first revealing her lean torso, letting the material drag it's way over her firm breasts. Smooth and white with little pink tips that hardened as they were bared to the cool night air of the chamber.

When she discarded it and swept the hair out of her face, she saw Petyr looking up at her with a kind of reverence.

“Surely I am the envy of every man in the seven kingdoms to have you in my lap like this” he said. It almost made Sansa laugh, but the way he breathed the words more than he spoke them, made her feel like they were not as empty as most of the courtesies she heard fall from his lips.

Of course his smirk quickly found him again, as his eyes cast downwards “And I see you have already forgone your small clothes for the evening?” he said, staring at the juncture between her thighs at the promised red curls.

“I didn't think them necessary....” she said over the calculated lack of modesty. She thought slipping them off as she changed was simply good planning, considering what she intended to do.

“As I would agree. Perhaps you shall stop wearing them all together. I can see you wandering through the castle gardens now, gown swishing around your legs as you walked, and no one who walked past the sweet young Sansa would guess that you were bare beneath your skirts”

“Lord Baelish, don't be indecent!”

“Girl, you are naked atop of me, and you expect me to be decent?” he moved his hands to cup under her ass “And how many times must I tell you to call me Petyr? Say It now for me. Petyr”

“Petyr” she repeated for him, but she let out a gasp as his hand dipped down the curve of her bottom, and Sansa felt a finger slip inside her in one quick moment.

“Say it again” he ordered, Sansa still reeling from the sudden sensation of feeling him inside of her. It had taken her by surprise and it had hurt. 

“Petyr...?” she said, looking at him with questioning confusion. Surely twice was enough.

“Again” was all he said, his finger beginning to slip in and out of her, slowly getting her used to the feeling.

Sansa didn't know what game this was, but the feeling of her walls around him, noticing how easily his finger glided over her. She suddenly became aware of a wetness between her folds through the slick sound his fingers made as he dipped in and out, in and out.

“Petyr” she said, a shuddering whisper. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his other hand brush against her front, pressing down and moving in tight circles that set her nerves on end.

“Again. Keep saying my name” Petyr rasped as he worked her, now using two fingers to stretch her as she pushed against him, taking them deeper as he rubbed her clit.

She did not know the game but at least now she knew the rules. If she chanted his name she would feel more of this, the more than pleasant ache at her core, the small bursts of pleasure that seemed to burst from that one sensitive spot. The faster and harder he went, the harder and faster she chanted.

“Petyr...Petyr....Petyr!” she said, her breath becoming more ragged, the obscene sucking sounds of his fingers bothering her less and less as she lost herself to the feeling. She didn't even now it could feel like this, whatever this was, only that it kept feeling better and better and she wanted to keep going “Petyr, Petyr, Petyr!

Sansa was about to utter his name once more when she let out a yelp. Petyr had withdrawn his hands and pulled her forward, so that she almost toppled over as she was dragged up his torso. She was completely caught of guard as he raised her up and pressed her mound to his face, and then he began to lick. Long, thick strokes, narrow pointed thrusts. A swirling combination of both.

Sansa let out a weak moan, one she couldn't contain. He was mad to do such a thing, to kiss her down there. She'd never even heard of such a thing, oh, but it felt good. Good was not enough of a word for what she was feeling alongside the heat between her legs. Sansa didn't know what she was reaching for, only that she knew she was close.

She started to rock her clit against his tongue, taking her pleasure as she craved it, letting out a strangled sigh as she grinded her hips faster, her core so wet and warm. Petyr hands kept her held to him although she had no wish to pull away. Another stroke and a shudder hit her spine and her legs shook. It was almost excruciating, she was gasping, her back arching as she started to lose control.

She closed her eyes and cried out as it came to a crashing end, overwhelming her as she was pushed over the edge, losing herself to absolute pleasure.

It took her a second to come down from that high, and she slid off Petyr, her lower half feeling weak as she fell to his side.

When she saw that Petyr was not nearly as out as breath as her, Sansa also noted how he hadn't even removed his robe. He'd just seen all of her, and she hadn't seen a scrap of him. Not to mention how quiet he had suddenly become, eyes cast upwards to the ceiling. She could see a sheen across his chin. That was her, she thought.

The rush of intimacy fading, Sansa started to feel vaguely self conscious, and she pulled across a sheet to cover herself. How had she just acted? Crying out like that. Would anyone have heard her? She hadn't even thought in the moment, she had gotten to carried away and forgotten herself. Sansa dreaded to think that perhaps Shae had been just outside the door, or Markas. If they had heard her she would just die.

“So-” Petyr spoke after some time, breaking the silence “You seemed to like that”

Sansa murmured her yes. She thought it would be obvious, but clearly he wanted the confirmation. She was about to shoot back that he seemed to enjoy himself too, but then she thought about his clothed form, and how he hadn't even unlaced himself

“We.....we didn't have....do your fingers still count? My maidenhood is gone?”'

She was no expert, but Sansa knew the very basics of the act, and they definitely had not followed the script she had expected to play out. Petyr had taken her wildly off course.

“Well, I suppose if you want to be technical, you could argue that your still a maiden. A finger is hardly....there is definitely a difference, sweetling”

She suddenly felt quite disappointed with herself. She had not really done what she had come here to do.

Maybe Petyr sensed what she was feeling, as he drew her close “But there will be other nights, there is no need to rush. I don't plan on you staying a maid for that much longer either”

Sansa shifted to get comfortable, clutching satin sheets to her chest “I fear Joffrey has the same thoughts” 

She could not see Petyr's face but his tone sounded sombre “But Joffrey has no idea you are still a maid, that is just between us. As far as they knew we were long ago consummated”

“It doesn't matter, even if he doesn't know he'd be the first to take me, I would” she said sharply.

As silence fell on them again, Sansa leant her head against the plush pillows and suddenly felt exhausted, and as the heat at her core had left her, a slight ache lingered behind. 

She felt herself drifting off, being only vaguely aware of Petyr slipping off his rings to place on a bedside stand and mumbling words to her as he did so, though she only took parts of it in as sleep started to overcome her.

“Don't let Joffrey worry you too much, Sweetling.....- wedding coming up-.......-I'm sure you'll love the necklace I bought you-......-you must know I'd never let him hurt you-.....-not when your mine”


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa lay there, wrapped up among the sheets, as she watched her husbands chest rise and fall.

She had woken up first, the light filtering in from the thin gauze curtains of the gold room. It was still dim, the world still, silent if not for the chirping of dawns birds, and for a disorientating moment Sansa had not recognised where she was.

The silks. The gold hues. The weight of another body next to her on the mattress. She lay there across from Petyr, curled into herself a foot away, in the same position in which she woke. She didn't want to shift around too much, lest she wake him up. 

The things she suddenly remembered him doing to her made her blush, aware of how naked she was under the sheets. The thought hit her suddenly 'I am a maid no longer'.

But no, that wasn't right. She did still have her maidenhead, supposedly. He had not put himself inside her, just his fingers. He said that wasn't the same.

Sansa couldn't see how that did not count. She turned a light shade of pink just remembering the way she'd spread her legs so wantonly, how she'd been touched all over, naked and making the most embarrassing of sounds....she did not feel like any kind of proper maid.

But If Petyr had not taken her as a man was supposed to take a women, then what had he done? Did other husbands do those sort of things to their wives? Joffrey's voice echoed meanly in her head 'Has he taught you any tricks yet? Whores tricks?'

The more Sansa thought about it, the more she was convinced what she'd done was perverse. As if she had somehow shamed herself. Maybe her Lord Husband would go bragging around court, and he would tell everyone that Sansa Stark did indeed take to learning all sorts of whores tricks...

She lay there, eyes still drowsy as she stared at nothing, yet unable to fall back to sleep with the worries that now refused to leave her head.

She played idly with the tassel of a silk pillow as she flopped her head back over to stare at Lord Baelish. Petyr. Her husband. Sansa wasn't entirely sure what title fit him best yet, coming from her own mouth. He didn't look elegant as he slept, head pressed into the pillow, mouth half open. Whereas Sansa curled into herself as she slept, he seemed to sprawl, the covers half pulled off him. It must be because he still wore a robe to bed, Sansa thought, staring at the navy blue material, tracing the intricate pattern on it with her eyes. She would have thought he would get too hot in the night.

As Sansa grew increasingly restless, she wondered if she could give him a quick poke to his side to wake him up. She did not want to lie here for half an hour more, staring at the ceiling.

She worked up the nerve to give him a quick nudge to the ribs, quickly withdrawing her hand to lie innocently besides him, as Petyr woke with a small grunt, blinking in surprise.

“Mmm, good morning” he said, sounding slow and groggy.

“Morning” Sansa mumbled back.

“Sleep well?”

“Yes” she said, in truth. She had slept soundly through the night, without nightmares plaguing her like they often did. She'd even had somewhat of a nice dream, where she was a girl as tiny as a mouse, and she would creep through a castle with no one noticing her, climbing up tablecloths to eat the crumbs of her favourite cakes, and she rode mice around the halls as if they were horses.

She used to have lots of dreams like that, when she was younger. For a moment she considered telling Petyr about it, but stopped herself. He would most likely just think it childish and silly. 

“Did you sleep well, too?” Sansa asked.

Even as he was still drowsy, Petyr still found it within himself to let his head lull towards her with a lazy smile “Oh, most definitely”

She let him pull her closer towards him, though she felt stiff and shy in his arms. The girl that had writhed on his lap last night felt like a different girl entirely. Surely that had not been her.

As they settled against each other, with Sansa now held to his chest, his arm encircled over her, she shifted her body to fit against his. Her legs legs curled into him to get comfortable, and she felt something brush against her thigh. She paused, before shifting once again on purpose, feeling it again.

“You're...you're already...” she murmured, the blush picking up in her cheeks.

“It happens sometimes in the morning” Petyr said as she glanced up to his face.

“You mean you just wake up with it...ready like that?”

Petyr let out an amused little tut “You sound so mystified, sweetling”

“Well...” Sansa peeked down between the sheets to catch a glimpse of his erection beneath his bed clothes “It is kind of...odd. I thought it would only go stiff when you wanted it to get stiff? When you are ready to be in a lady?”

He really did laugh at that “If only men had that kind of control. No, I am afraid we are less in control of our lower half than we would like to be on occasion....hell, there are some men who are controlled by nothing but the will of their cocks”

Sansa's fingers traced the folds of the bed sheets in idle circles. If she only crept her fingers along a few inches down his torso, she could feel him in her grasp....there was a queer curiosity that gripped her at the thought.

And here she had promised herself when she first woke that she would not behave like she had last night. She would act with some dignity, but she was already thinking of taking his cock in her hand. Just to see what it would feel like. See what he would do if she were to run her hand along it..

No. No, she wouldn't. Sansa could not work up the nerve. She stalled her hand on the sheets.

Though Petyr had no plans to stall his own.

He started slowly, his hands under the sheets on her bare skin, tracing his hand down her back, before moving on to longer strokes that went from her back along her side, down to her thigh. He didn't say a word, content to let a comfortable silence fall over them, just as Sansa was content to do nothing but be stroked. It was nice....relaxing. Eventually she felt her bodies tenseness leave her slowly, until she felt nothing but the soft sheets and his soft hands. Of course his hands would be soft, she thought. He wasn't a fighter, he didn't train with a sword. The pads of his fingers were smooth and un-calloused and pleasant. 

Eventually his hands started to work lower, moving over her ass, dipping down her thighs, still saying nothing.

Sansa said nothing of it too. A silent invitation to keep going. At this point she would let him stroke her anywhere he wanted. This was alright, she reasoned. It was not shameful to let your husband touch you. Perhaps it would be shameful to spread ones own legs and guide his hand between them,...but she wouldn't do that. Sansa stayed silent, even as he pressed light kisses at her temple.

“You seemed upset that we didn't truly consummate this marriage last night, sweetling” he paused to kiss to her neck, a place Sansa realised she quite liked being kissed “Perhaps I should make that up to you now?”

“But it's morning...” Sansa answered with neither a yes or a no.

“Consider it a good start to the day” Petyr said absentmindedly, as his hand came down to cup at her breast, a thumb grazing over he nipple.

Sansa lay back as he positioned himself on top of her, taking her mouth in a kiss. He really was quite good at kissing.

“Could you....could you kiss my neck again?” she pulled away to ask.

He regarded her with a surprised smile “You like that especially then?”

Sansa nodded, shyly, tucking her long hair away to give him access to the alcove of her neck and collarbone.

“Then I shall note that down” he said as he obliged her with his lips “You should tell me all of the things you like...like here for example. Do you like it when I kiss you here?”

He was at the tops of her breasts now, and Sansa gave a small nod “Yes”

“And here?” At the peak of her nipples.

“ Yes...”

“And what about here” his hand made it's way up her thigh to clutch between her legs, and Sansa took a sharp intake of breath “Did you like it when I kissed you there?”

No. I must say no, she willed herself to say, but his fingers were already sliding against her, and he was lowering himself down the bed.

“I...ah...”

The words weren't coming as he peppered small kisses all down her torso, inching closer and closer, the scratch of his bed tickling her lower and lower...

“I don't want to do that” she blurted out, making Petyr pause, just as his face hovered between her legs so close she could feel his breath “Just....just put yourself inside me, that's all”

“....she said seductively” Petyr said dryly, and with more than little irritation. He didn't move though “Forgive me for presuming, but I thought you rather enjoyed yourself last night, did you not?”

Sansa felt her core clench slightly, as she remembered the way his hot tongue had felt as it slid between her folds.

“A lady...a Lady should not do those things”

“You didn't answer my question” 

Sansa pulled up her legs away from him, scooting up the bed in an un-elegant shuffle “I...I didn't” she steeled herself, willing the words to come out with some conviction “ I don't enjoy being touched in the same manner as...as one of your girls! A wife should be treated with respect by her husband in bed-”

“I don't touch my girls” Petyr cut her off “-and I would think a husband should treat his wife how she wants to be treated in bed, and I would have thought you would want to be pleasured-” he pressed, trying to draw Sansa back to him.

“It is perverse!” she tried again, backing herself all the way into the pillows against the headboard of the bed, nowhere left for her to shuffle back too. placing his hands either side of her and looming over her, making her breath hitch as he spoke lowly into her ear.

“Oh? And who told you that?” he scoffed slightly “As if you know the meaning of the word”

Sansa made sure to look him right in the eye “I might not know as well as you, but I can tell when something is debauched”

He laughed “Can you now? My dear girl, on a list of things I could do to you, kissing your cunt ranks very low on a scale of debauchery”

He ran a hand up her side, so gently that it was at odds with his words, and Sansa couldn't help but let her legs fall apart just that fraction wider as his body slid over hers, fitting himself to her.

“You're awful..” she whispered, even as she tilted her head back to let him push his lips to her neck. She should not have told him she liked that so much.

“The very worst” he murmured above her skin, tasting her as he nipped and sucked as he pleased “So what made you so sure a tongue between your legs was a debauched act? Because you enjoyed it? Craved more of it?”

She didn't answer his question. She knew how wide he'd smirk “Because I've never heard of it before” she said.

He laughed “So you assumed it was just one mans strange perversion? You don't think any other man in the seven kingdoms has had the notion to kiss a cunny before?”

She swatted a hand to his chest “You use such horrid words”

“I thought we already established that I'm a wicked man with a wicked tongue?”

Sansa let him run his wicked tongue further over her neck, his words running through her mind “So...so it is...there are many men who kiss their wives down there?”

“Hmm...” Sansa could feel his voice thrum just below her ear “I would say it is more common over in the free cities and Dorne, but that's not to say it isn't done here. Just less openly discussed, I suppose. They call it the Lords kiss”

It had a name, Sansa thought, as Petyr trailed his kisses back down over her collar bone and worked his way down over her breasts.

“So It is common then?” she tried to assure, her voice barely steady as he nuzzled at her chest.

He acted as if he had not heard the question, as he took his mouth and enveloped a nipple, sucking and eliciting a small gasp from Sansa.

“You know of Lady Becca? One of Cersei's ladies in her flock of hens” he said, still pausing to flick his tongue back over her gently “She pays me to send her one of the boys I employ, sometimes as much as twice a moonturn, and she pays that boy well to bury himself under her skirts”

“No, surely not!” Sansa went wide eyed at the thought of such an elegant lady, one she had much admired at Kings landing for her grace and charm, even in her late age. She wore the finest dresses, had a delicate step in all the court dances, conducted herself with all the proper courtesies. 

“Oh, surely yes” Petyr laughed “I know, she seems so prim and proper. A true Lady, through and through, but that's not to say she can't enjoy herself in private. And it's not just her, Sweetling, you would not believe what half the court indulges in when the drapes of their beds are closed around them”

Sansa was still reeling slightly. Half from the revelations of sexual discourse that were apparently rampant, and half from the feeling of cool air on her hardened nipple once Petyr's mouth had left it.

“Honestly, it's such a shame that you young highborn girls are kept so in the dark about what lies between your legs. They don't tell you anything more than how to lie back in the dark for your husband and then push out his children, and some never know any real pleasure” Sansa felt his hand creep between her legs to rub gently at the front of her small clothes “You're lucky you have me to show you”

Sansa tensed at the touch, but still let her eyes roll with derision. By now she was quite sure of how much her husband liked the sound of his own voice “You are a braggart to say such a thing”

He looked slightly surprised to hear her speak to him so “My lady, I like to think I've earned my right to brag in this respect” he said, his fingers pressing against her slit.

Sansa refused to let herself make a sound, wanting to make him feel like he did not have her completely yet, but It was hard to keep up pretences as his hand rubbed more between her legs, and she found herself wanting to writhe against him.

Perhaps Petyr caught her in her effort to subdue herself, taking it as a challenge, a matter of pride, or perhaps just another game he could play, as he pulled back suddenly.

Sansa watched him, still on her back as he knelt before her , placing his hands on either one of her knees. He gently spread her legs before him. She felt exposed, and much too vulnerable, in this anything but dignified position. She made an admittedly weak attempt to close her legs back together but Petyr held her open firmly. A strange part of her was grateful for that, as she felt her skin flush as he stared so intently, his mouth slightly parted, his eyes staring at nothing but her. Is that what a man looked like when he was consumed by lust? The thought gave her a thrill, but there was a persistent voice of reason in the back of her head that told her to feel at least a semblance of shame as his eyes rested on her, flushed and bare and wet.

He seemed content to simply gaze at her for a moment, Sansa's breathing shallow, her body taut and anticipating his touch. His hand moved back to stroke her, though he himself remained at a distance. Sat back, watching her, the way his fingers parted her now bare folds as he slid them along the inside of her, framing her clitoris with his fingers.

“I bet you've never even touched yourself...” Petyr mused out loud as he worked, played with her, for his own pleasure as well as her own.

Sansa just shook her head. She did not know what noise would come out if she chanced opening her mouth. 

Now she remembered how easy it was to let herself go, as she had done last night. How the more he touched her, the more the nagging feelings of guilt and shame ebbed away, leaving only the heat in her lower half at the forefront of her mind. She let her head fall back against the pillows, closing her eyes, as he stroked, and stroked, and stroked. She started to buck her hips up to meet his hand, writhing more boldly. He was starting to undo her as he had done last night, she was becoming that shameless girl again.

And if other ladies of court could indulge themselves to this, why couldn't she?

Sansa couldn't keep up her stubborn silence any longer, as she felt him graze across a spot that made her nerves alight, and forced a gasp to escape her, small and breathless.

“This is the most sensitive part of you” Petyr informed, rubbing small circles with the pad of his thumb “The more attention you give it, the more the pleasure builds”

Sansa could only agree silently as his hand started working at a quicker pace, her growing wetness letting his fingers slip along her more comfortably, her breathing becoming truly ragged when he pressed just that little harder, and she had to press her lips together to stifle her moan.

She tensed and pursed her lips even further, as she felt a finger slip inside her.

“No, no. That won't do” Petyr said as he slid his finger slowly in and out of her, stretching her, getting her past the point of that slight pain until she felt a warmth “I want to hear your noises...such pretty little noises”

He pressed the pad of his thumb against that sensitive nub again and this time Sansa didn't suppress anything, a little whine of arousal leaving her.

“That's it, that's it” he coaxed, pushing another finger inside her, curling inside her, thumb rubbing against her clit. The slick sounds hit her ears as his fingers thrust inside her, and Sansa pushed herself back on his hand, panting, melting into the mattress as she started to feel warm all over. There was a smell, sweet and heavy, and Sansa realised it was her, her arousal. 

“Do you know why we do this, sweetling? Why you should be played with like this?” Petyr breathed.

“Feels good...” Sansa murmured, absentminded as she fucked herself on his hand 

“The wetter you are, the easier it will be for you to take my cock” 

His own need was catching up with him, Sansa could hear it in his voice, and she glanced down to see his free hand toying with his laces. She slowed down her pace, pausing to watch as he pulled himself out into his hand. It was hard and the tip looked red as he stroked it, and she thought how different it looked to anything she'd imagined, but she knew her imaginations hadn't been based on much in the first place. Now here it was, the part of him that was meant to go inside her, to fill her.

No more games, she thought, her lust fully outweighing any of the trepidation she had had. He meant to take her properly now, and she wanted it, not just to spite joffrey, not just because it was expected of her as a wife. She was horrified by the animal part of her that simple craved him, a clenching of her core that begged to be filled, to be taken and fucked and warmed by him. 

Sansa bucked her hips upwards as he withdrew his fingers from her, needed something else to ease her need, searching for his hips as he rose over her, chest to chest, her legs widening to have him fit her.

Then she felt him, his cock grazing against her opening, the head pressing into her. Yes, yes, she wanted to cry out, but this part of her he had awakened was so young it did not know words yet, it spoke only with her body, spoke only in moans as she manoeuvred her hips to grind against him, to have him slick up and down against the softness of her lips. His head fell into the crook of her neck, a strangled cry of his own leaving him as he thrust into her.

The pain made her cry out, but he was not inside her yet. He rutted against her more, her body tight and unyielding to him at first, before he grabbed at the outside of her thigh, pulling her up higher, panting into her neck all the while, before finally she felt her body relax, felt herself taking him in, stretching around him in unmistakable penetration.

She gasped as he entered her, slowly pushing in in one long, drawn out, movement. There was a slight pain, but her toes curled as she felt him stop, the length of him inside her now. 

“Oh, god...Sansa..” he choked out, eyes closed as he began to pull out and thrust again, and again, deep strokes, each reverberating through her.

Then the warmth started. Started low in her stomach, in her hips, in her core. With each time he withdrew and thrust into her the warmth would spread and envelope her, and she wanted more. The pain was nothing, the heat was everything, and she chased it. Her hips began to meet his, a give and take forming as the undulated together, breathed together, moaned together. She felt like she was melting, she felt like their were shockwaves under her skin, jolting through her as they thrust faster and faster, was penetrated deeper, their movements become erratic and needy.

It all built to one final wave that took her, washed over with white hot heat, the jolts turning to spasms as her whole body tightened, her core pulsing violently around him as she cried out, screamed, raw and high, skin wet against the mattress as she writhed under him as she felt her orgasm wrenched from her, as Petyr plunged deep inside her with one last hard thrust, clutched over her, groaning as he came, shaking just as she did, his mouth slack as they rode out the pleasure together.

For a moment they hung in that bliss, as her body stopped shaking, as the pace of her breathing slowed, her gasps and pants leaving her. She began to feel real again, like herself, instead of some vessel of sensations. Sansa could blink and feel how heavy Petyr's body was on top of her, how she felt sticky with sweat, the smell that hit her nostrils. The smell of sex, she thought. It was as disgusting as it was pleasant, in it's own way.

Petyr manoeuvred his way off of her, to lie at her side, and Sansa stretched her legs slowly. There was an ache forming between her legs. She lulled her head to her side to face him, and as she caught his eye, she was being kissed. There was no force behind it. It was slow and sweet, and she was open to it. She was still slightly melted from before, somewhat sedated almost, and found herself curling into him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Something needed to be said between them. She should find her words.

“That was....I....I liked that” she said simply, after some time, and it made him chuckle.

“Such a way with words” he drawled, lazily, and Sansa batted at his chest with her hand.

“I don't know how to say it!” she said “I can't think of words, it was so...no one told me it was like that”

“Mmm, don't worry sweetling, I know what you mean. People try to sum it up into words, but it really doesn't do the act any justice”

Sansa lay her head down onto the pillows “What kind of words do they use?”

Petyr raised a hand languidly to the air, as if to draw thoughts to himself “....mind numbing...earth shattering...?”

“Earth shattering”

“I didn't say those were my words, sweetling”

It was almost funny how Sansa found some sense of shyness still left in her as she asked her question “And what words would you use? For now...between us?”

He turned to her, a finger moving up towards her face to slide away a stray strand of her hair, before running down over her cheek.

“Perfect. Nothing but perfect”

He said it with such reverence that she couldn't help but glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAND they banged. Phew. That's done and dusted. 
> 
> One more chapter planned for this.


	3. Chapter 3

The Quarthen pillows had arrived within weeks, just as Petyr had promised. As soon as a shipment of the silks had come into port at King's Landing, Petyr had them ordered within the day. They were in beautiful shades of mauve and violet, just as she had asked for, with gold and silver thread, with the tassels she so loved.

As Sansa strolled through the gardens of Kings landing, she graced a hand over a chain on her neck. The gifts from Petyr had started to come thick and fast, and this necklace came soon after the pillows.

It's pendant was a pair of mockingbirds, entwined together, with a small emerald centred between them. A romantic take on Petyr's own pin. She would twist the delicate silver in her hands and see the story, that he was the bigger bird, and she was now the little one nestled against him. 

Sansa thought it beautiful, but she could not forget the last necklace that had been gifted to her. A gold Lions pendant.

She wished she could be young again, where she could receive a gift and simply bask in the notion behind it, appreciate a sweet sentiment, instead of realising it was simply a show of ownership. Like a dog with a collar.

Funny. Sansa could never recall seeing her mother with a wolf around her neck.

Her dress was new too. That was something she liked about marriage, her allowance. She'd perhaps gone a tad overboard, when she'd ordered ten new dresses, but she'd simply been so sick of wearing the same things for over a year. 

As she walked, she glanced seemingly back at a patch of flowers, while discreetly taking note of how closely the Lannister guards were trailing behind her. Gone were the days where they were posted at her room at all hours. Officially, they had been relieved of their posts. Unofficially, however, she knew Joffrey and Cersei still had them watching. 

She kept up her stroll and eventually spotted Margaery and her ladies some way away, seated under a pavilion, chattering and laughing, with cakes and plates of fruit.

Sansa didn't break her leisurely stride, even as she felt their gaze turn to watch her, a pause in their merriment. Did they think themselves subtle, she thought?

Usually she ignored them, but there was a boldness in her as of late. She wasn't a child anymore. She was a married women, no longer a maid, a Lady who could boast half a claim on Winterfell and of Harrenhal and the Riverlands, and who were these silly giggling girls?

Sansa shot them a look, openly and defiantly, and she was glad to see them hurry to turn back to their cakes, pretending as if they weren't so keen on staring.

“A look so cold it could bring on the next winter itself. I should only hope I'm never on the receiving end”

Sansa turned to see her husband appear ahead of her, a genial smile on his face.

“That depends, are you a witless gossip with nothing better to do than talk about me behind my back?”

“Well, I'd hardly consider myself witless, but I do indulge in a touch of a gossip, and I certainly enjoy talking about you” Petyr said, as he held out his arm for Sansa to take, joining her on her walk, their steps in sync “Though really, do you think it wise to refer to our future queen as a 'witless gossip' out here in the gardens? Ears everywhere, sweetling. Remember that”

Sansa sniffed. There was a time she would have rather referred to Margaery as a friend, or even a sister, but after all that had happened, witless gossip seemed more fitting. Or worse “Yes. Of course. I'll make sure to insult her in private next time”

Petyr laughed under his breath as he drew up her hand to place a kiss on the back of it “You are simply too endearing sometimes”

Sansa smiled with a little furrow of her brow. He complimented her in the strangest of ways sometimes. Her whole life she had been taught to be sweet for her future husband, and here she was in her present, with a man who seemed to like it when she was more spice than sugar.

“And what has you out here joining me? No business to attend too?” she asked.

“My lady, there is always business to attend too, but with todays council meeting pushed back another hour or two, on Cersei's behest, I thought I'd take the chance to seek a bit of fresh air. Flex my fingers. One gets cramps when they are stuck writing ravens all morning”

They walked leisurely down the stone paths for a few minutes more, where Sansa noticed her husbands eyes pointed down at her skirts, and his mouth twist in a smile.

“What is it? What is so amusing?” she demanded of him, getting used to the little quirks of his expressions.

“Nothing, nothing.....simply remembering one of our nights together, where I suggested you forego your small clothes when you walked through the gardens like this”

Sansa blushed and looked back to see that no one was near.

“Get that thought out of your head right now, I will do no such thing!”

“Of course, of course....I simply like picturing it....though, no one would ever know-”

She gave him a pinch, but he only laughed, and she did her best to hide a smile. She should not encourage him.

They both spotted the pair of girls as they headed towards them, both of whom Sansa recognised. Both were from the reach, and both were part of Margaerys little circle. She supposed they were off to join said circle back up at the pavilion, but as they passed, Sansa could see the sly smiles of cruel mockery on their faces, and they weren't out of earshot by the time they fell into giggles. Sansa could hear them still.

“-so old!”

“-taller than him even”

She knew Petyr had heard too, but his smile didn't leave him. He simply batted his eyes. Sansa was sure her face had gone sour, and her cheeks a little pink.

They were not the first comments she'd heard, but they were of the same ilk. You'd think a young girl had never wed a man with grey in hair before, the way some carried on about it.

Her visit to the brothel had done nothing but inspire even more ruthless gossip. It made Sansa weary to think of what conclusions people would come too. Shae had informed her about the rumour amongst the handmaidens that Sansa had partaken in a bedding with three other maids, or sometimes it was five, depending on who you talked too. Sansa had begged Petyr to perhaps squash the rumours, to do something about the whole misconception, but he had very calmly told her that denying a rumour only fuels it, and sometimes it is best to let idle chatter run its course. He and she were about it, regardless.

“Horrid girls” Petyr tutted to her “Did you see the blonde ones dress? Those puff sleeves are dreadful, that style should have stayed back down in the reach, where it perhaps wouldn't reach my eyes. I wonder how she gets them so big? Do you think she fills them up with air every morning? It's a worry, considering how empty headed she seems. She might float away some day”

Sansa mustered a weak smile at his japes, knowing he was only saying it to make her feel better. 

“Her name is Bethel, and her friend is Yoanna” she said.

“Ah. Yoanna” Petyr stroked a hand over his beard “I recognise the name. A maid from house Dunn?”

“Yes, I believe so. How do you know of her?”

“I can't say I know much of her, but I happen to know who she is betrothed to. One of the Lords here in the Crownlands, from house Buckwell”

“Oh, yes. That. She never shuts up about it. You'd think her upcoming wedding would be grander than Margaerys, the way she seems to plan it” Sansa gave a little noise of derision “She goes on at length about how handsome he is as well, after he sent her a miniature to keep in a locket, and I heard she was caught showing it off to even the coal boy in her apartments”

“He is a comely enough looking young man, I'll give him that. Pleasant as well. A good temperament, and not particularly lacking in coin either”

Sansa had to hide her disappointment “So she has gotten quite lucky then, I suppose. Good for her”

“Yes, yes. He is the most eligible suitor....well, besides for the fact that he has quite a particular taste for Dornish girls, whom he pays to defecate on him”

Sansa all but shrieked as she clasped a hand over her mouth, appalled.

“That is not-...surely...?” she gaped, daring to laugh as Petyr smiled smugly.

“Oh, I am privy to the most extraordinary range of tastes, some you would not even like to believe. So our Lady Yoanna can laugh over short old me all she likes. She doesn't know the meaning of having an embarrassing husband yet”

Sansa clutched his arm closer in hers, and disgusted as she was, she found her giggles wouldn't leave her “I know there must be a certain level of confidence in your type of business but, Oh, please, please, let the court find out about that!”

Petyr leant in close to her ear with a conspirators grin “I will tell anyone who listens”

The rest of the walk was even pleasant, as Sansa tugged at her husbands sleeve, urging him to tell her more secrets. Who else's husbands visiting his brothels? Who did what behind closed doors? He indulged her in all sorts of little tidbits that left her gasping and in disbelief at half of it, so much so that she had to remind him he mustn't lie to his wife, where he had to assure her that he would never. Right before telling her a quite unbelievable story about two lords, one the stable masters daughters, and a riding crop.

“But how would that be pleasurable?” Sansa frowned up at him through her disbelief “I would think that would hurt most terribly...”

Petyr smiled most sweetly at his wife, and perhaps a lewd comment played on his lips, but he was thwarted by another quick question.

“When you....when you find out about half these things” Sansa started, unsure of how to phrase it best, and stumbling through the delivery “It is because the men tell you in the first place?”

Petyr nodded “Most times, yes. Men are quick to brag, and hardly need much prompting. Especially when talking with a man who owns brothels. I'm hardly expected to pass judgement, so they feel quite free to discuss all sorts with me”

Sansa nodded along, quite solemnly “And you...do you divulge...I mean to say, do you perhaps share your own...” she waved her hand, looking for words, but Petyr caught on quick enough.

“Ah” he smiled “You are worried I brag about you?”

Sansa didn't like that he wasn't denying it right away.

“Because I would hope that all that goes on between us is not...not common knowledge, or discussed over wine with other bawdy lords for them to jape about!”

“This has been worrying you, hasn't it?” he asked, a little teasingly “To think that I had jumped straight from our bed, and run to the nearest passerby I could find to intricately describe every fold and crevice of your-”

“Petyr!”

“I have not, my lady, I assure you”

He was given a very frosty and unblinking look.

“I may have... once or twice....made an offhand comment about how I can scarce find time to manage all of my affairs, what with an eager young wife to attend to in the evening...and sometimes, the morning, but nothing more than that!”

“Oh, gods...”

“Believe me, they know nothing of the way you like your neck to be kissed, or the sounds you make, or even the position you ended up quite liking when I had you up against the-”

“Petyr!” it came out even more foreboding this time, but it did nothing to stop his amusement “You truly promise me that nothing that happens between us in private is ever brought up?”

“I promise you” he said, sounding quite sincere “Even after the news of your little visit to my establishment, when they were all questions and keen ears, I didn't divulge a thing”

Sansa still looked dubious, but she supposed it sated her for now.

“Well....thank you. I am glad you are at least gallant in that respect”

That is when he halted and took her hands in his “Trust me, sweetling. I may fuck you anyway you want me too, stroke you, kiss you, make you scream and writhe and sweat ,when it's just you and I ,where no one else can see, but if anyone were to ask me any prying questions? Why I would tell them that you simply lay there demurely, under the covers with the candles blown out, barely making a sound, as is befit for a Lady. How does that suit you, sweet little wife?”

She did not bother to respond to that, as she hid her smile, so as not to encourage him.

“And sadly, I think it is time I best be headed to the council chambers. An audience with both Tywin and Cersei in it, is hardly an audience to keep waiting” he pulled her hand up for a kiss to the back of it, but he was not done yet before they parted

“Now, before I go, could I perhaps suggest an idea to you?” he asked quite gently, but Sansa's demeanour stiffened.

“You could...” she said carefully, promptly prepared to deny him something. If this was about her small clothes again..

“I think you should perhaps join Margaery, and Bethel, and Yoanna, and that whole little gaggle of girls, one day. Try and join them for their treats, be their friend. Instead of glaring daggers at them every time you pass, perhaps you could smile. You have such a pretty smile after all”

Sansa frowned, taking her hand back from his, confused “But I hate them. You yourself said those girls were horrid, why would I want any of their treats, or even waste my smile on them?”

Petyr drew her hand back quite sharply “Because it is important that you have friends, my dear. You spend your days either alone, or with me, and perhaps that was forgivable when you were the mourning daughter, held captive here, but now you are married, and happy”

“Oh, am I?” Sansa raised her eyebrows, and tried to take her hand back once more, but he would not relinquish it “And tell me, if I am to make friends, why must it be with the likes of them? I'd rather befriend the whorish stable girl”

“You can befriend who you like, of course, but ask yourself. How much influence does a whorish stable girl have, and how much does a queen?”

He looked at her with expectant eyes, but the question was so trivial it didn't need an answer. She tried to look away, annoyed, but her husband would not have it.

“No one is truly friend with each other here, Sansa, but it is important that we go through the motions. Before your falling out, you got along well enough with Margaery, and it would be a shame to waste that”

“But their talk...” Sansa muttered weakly.

“Yes. Their talk. All those girls do is talk. About their husbands, about their families, about everything” His voice had lowered now, and Sansa started to sense their was something more to his words “So much is constantly being said, and how good it is to be a fly on the wall”

She searched his gaze, trying to understand “Spying?” she said slowly.

Petyr tutted “An ugly word, and one I wouldn't use. Listening. That's all you will do. It's a surprisingly rare skill, and one with more benefits than you would think. Being someones friend makes one a lot more privy to their life and their secrets than being an enemy does”

“But what if they don't want to be my friend?” 

And it was here that the sharpness of her words melted a little, and she sounded more a young girl again.

Petyr cupped a hand to her cheek “Nonsense” he whispered, as if she was mad “Look at you. You are beautiful, and fashionable, with all the grace and courtesy of all of Margaery's handmaidens combined. I'd dare say you could be the most popular girl in court, if you put your mind to it. I am sure you were the belle of Winterfell, back in your girlhood?”

Sansa smiled, only a little, at that. 

“You have been on the sidelines for so long, my girl. I want to see you in the middle of it all, at all the balls, sought after for every afternoon brunch. Envied and admired and beloved. It takes work of course, but the benefits? Worth all the lies and pageantry, I promise you”

Sansa was silent for a moment, sucking up her pride, as her husbands thumb ran over her cheek. She let out a very deep sigh “I suppose”

He drew her close for a kiss atop her head.

“You will make them love you. You have that way about you, sweetling”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really just want to write cute things, even a week after that dreadful episode. I've had my sad angst quota filled to capacity, I can't handle anymore right now, so here. Take this fluff. Take it! With Petyr being a perv and Sansa playing like she doesn't love it.
> 
> Also, to quench any more of your marriage AU needs, shadow13 just posted one of her own 'Frustration, ambition' and it made me roll around on the floor from being so perfect. Love yourselves. Go read it. You deserve a fic like this.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Petyr/Sansa marriage AU's. There are some amazing ones here already but I decided to throw mine in the mix as well.


End file.
